


Broad Strokes

by thisiswherethefishlives



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bullying, Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, Hux doesn't have an easy time of it after the events of The Force Awakens, M/M, Power Dynamics, Relationships of Convenience, Smoking, The threats of rape and violence are mostly off-screen and occur between Hux and OCs, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, off-screen violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 22:03:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6584362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisiswherethefishlives/pseuds/thisiswherethefishlives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Past.</i> Present. <b>Future.</b></p>
<p>This is not a story of redemption. For men like Hux, there's little to redeem. </p>
<p>So, <i>no</i>... this is not a redemption story. This is the story of how General Hux's life shattered around him in the aftermath of the Starkiller's destruction. </p>
<p>This is how he survived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broad Strokes

Ren's mouth is wet and hot as it lays claim to everything that Hux has always considered his own. Now though, he’s not so sure where his agency ends and where Ren’s claim begins, not with the determined hitch of Ren's hips and the way that he bites into Hux's skin with sharp teeth and a hint of tongue.

In between one thrust and the next, Hux tilts his head back to give Ren more skin to mark. If he smirks at the ragged way that Ren moans at the sight... well, it will be their secret.

_Theirs_.

It's a selfish thought. Something jealous and possessive and cold, even against the heat of their bodies where they meet. It leaves Hux a shivering mess, and from the way that Ren redoubles his efforts, Hux knows he's not alone in liking it. It feeds the chill between them, allows it to grow and ignite into a blinding flash of ice and blood and lust.

Thin fingers come to rest against Hux's throat, cool and smooth against his skin; they flex with every thrust of Ren's hips, threat and promise married together in a single gesture.

A reminder.

There will be bruises in the morning. Of that, he is certain. Ren, since the beginning, has been keen to lay bruises into his pale, pale skin at every opportunity. He's insistent. Reverent. He leaves the kindest bruises that Hux has ever known, high enough to be seen and unyielding in their meaning.

Those fingers close tighter around Hux's neck, tight enough to make breathing difficult... tight enough to make him work for it.

To make him struggle.

It's enough to push him over, untouched and gasping for more - _more oxygen, more pain, more Ren_ \- until his release is pulsing between them, hot and filthy and _real_ in a way that little else is. It makes everything else that much colder, from the fingers around his neck to the slick that's soaked into the sheets beneath them. There are goosebumps all over Hux's skin, crawling across the planes of his body as Ren slams home again and again, wild and handsome and terrible all at once.

Oversensitive and aching, Hux allows his head to fall back as he waits for Ren to finish, anticipates the throes of Ren's orgasm as if they were an extension of his own. He waits, and he waits, and it's only when those fingers clench taught on his neck for a final moment that it happens. Ren stills. He breathes in great gasps, breath fanning over Hux's skin like a caress, and he comes deep inside Hux where no one else has been.

Where no one else shall ever be.

There's a beat after Ren pulls out, but that's all Hux needs. It's enough time to roll away towards the edge of the bed. Enough time to raid Ren's stores for the cigarillos he's come to keep for just these moments. With practiced motions, Hux brings one between his lips and waits for Ren to light it.

It's yet another show of power. Another admission of Hux's lack of agency... but it's worth it for the softened edge of Ren's eyes and the burning rush of tabac in Hux's lungs.

Closing his eyes, Hux takes a deep breath and holds for as long as he can.

For just a moment, he tries to forget.

* * *

_As with everything, the Supreme Leader was unforgiving in the wake of the resistance's victory over the Starkiller._

_Years of work and resources were destroyed under Hux's watch, and it didn't matter how much Ren was to blame. No, it didn't matter, because Snoke needed someone to blame, and Hux was the only one found worthy of that mantle. That albatross._

_Being stripped of his rank... it left Hux hot all over. Shame and rage and burning resentment crawled under his skin from the moment Snoke declared him impotent, tearing and corroding at his insides, because it wasn’t his fault. He had done_ everything _that he was supposed to, and yet it was_ him _that was shamed instead of the true culprit. The_ true _weakness._

_Hux was denied his rank and removed of his privilege in the same sweep of the Supreme Leader’s hand that ordered Kylo Ren to be made whole._

_The simpering, condescending, child of a man with powers beyond his ken. This_ boy _. This_ oaf _was found not to be lacking by Snoke despite it being Ren’s ruinous whims that damned them all._

_Rising through the ranks of the First Order had always been one tricky maneuver after another. A game that Hux played with all seriousness - calculating each move precisely so as to never be high enough to be held responsible while perpetually striving to prove his superior value. Years of strategy, however, mean nothing when the only other scapegoat is worth more than you could ever hope to be._

_And so, Hux was demoted to persona non grata. No rank, no hope, and a distinct lack of instruction. For the first time in his life, he had no idea of what the future would bring. All he could do was wait for Snoke’s judgment._

* * *

“You shouldn’t do that.”

Taking another deep drag from the cigarillo, Hux takes a moment to parse the meaning from Ren’s tone. Even now, after months of sharing a bed, Hux still finds it difficult to read the other man. If he were to spend more than a passing thought on it, he’d probably blame his deficiency on Ren’s blasted headpiece. Filtered and mechanical, it was somehow easier to understand than the rough softness of Ren’s voice and the way that he curves his lips around each word.

The truth of it is that Kylo Ren is a vulnerable man, for all of his power and murderous intent. It’s off-putting to say the least, how malleable and delicate he can be with the lights dimmed to ten percent and his temples damp from exertion. All of this tenderness, yet another secret between them, and it leaves Hux raw in his anger, because _this_ is the person granting him safety.

_This_ is the boy that Snoke favored above all else.

Ren plucks the cigarillo from between Hux’s lips, and Hux forces himself to open his eyes to take in the other man's movement, heavy with imperious disdain even as he brings it to his lips.

He breathes out, smoke pouring from his lips, and he looks like sin. With an elegant, serpentine flick of his hand the cigarillo goes flying off beyond the realm of the bed, but Hux can’t bring himself to care where it’s gone, not when he can watch Ren instead. Of course, Ren ruins the moment before it begins by picking up the conversation as if Hux had answered in the first place.

“It's a filthy habit, you know. You'll end up in an early grave with yellowed fingers and blackened lungs.”

“It's not like it matters…” Hux breathes the words like a confession, and it hurts like it always does to acknowledge the precipice that he's balanced on. The razor's edge between this sad excuse of a life and death's embrace. “I won't live long enough for any of it, so I might as well indulge myself as I warm your bed.”

A strong hand comes to rest on Hux's throat where it's tender and hot, the subtle throb of a bruise rising to the surface made hotter with Ren's touch.

“You'll live long enough,” Ren drawls, voice thick as honey even as the words cut at Hux's pride. “You're under my protection, are you not?”

Hux doesn't answer. He _can't_ answer, not with Ren's eyes weighing down the anger and resentment that's been growing in Hux's chest from the moment Snoke declared him unfit to lead. It's blossomed into a garden of thorns and poison ever since, grown larger and uglier with each night that Hux has submitted to Ren's whims. There is a world of bitterness in Hux's heart, yet none of it comes when he needs it most. Under Ren's gaze, the only thing strong enough to survive is acceptance.

“One day you'll tire of me, Ren. You'll be done with this game between us and you'll throw me to the sarlaccs.” Ren's brow wrinkles at that, but Hux can't bear to stop long enough for the other man to offer his flimsy promises. “Of course, that's assuming your master doesn't order you to kill me first. Surely I've outlived my usefulness. It's only a matter of time.”

The hand on his neck tightens for a moment before Ren moves forward to claim his lips.

It's nothing like the way he fucks - relentless and unyielding. No, this is soft and pleading and full of promise. It’s unsettling in the way that it coils in Hux’s belly. Like a snake. Something venomous and deadly to take heed of.

“We all have our vices,” Ren murmurs into Hux’s lips. “You have your tabac… and I have you.”

Hux can’t help himself from rolling his eyes, even as he bites back a scoff.

“Ah, yes. We both have our filthy habits, don’t we? Just when will you be quitting _yours_ , Lord Ren?”

Those damned hands slide forward until they’re cupping Hux’s face, palms cool and dry as Ren’s thumbs stroke a steady rhythm along the jut of Hux’s cheeks.

“Oh, General. I don’t think I’d ever want to give you up.”

* * *

_It didn’t take long to realize that life as Hux had known it would never be the same._

_Gone were the responsibilities and the utilitarian luxuries that he had come to take for granted. His rooms had been locked against him, and his keycard confiscated before he could so much as beg for mercy. In less than an hour, everything that Hux had spent years working towards was gone. Even his clothes had been taken, the hard eyes of his assigned troopers burning into him as he was forced to strip, the clean lines and smooth weave of his uniform replaced with the scratchy jumpsuits reserved for prisoners and the infirm._

_The respect he had fought for was gone as well. In its stead was anger and disdain, palpable and loud in his crew’s eyes and the way their whispers were carelessly flung._

_With troopers flanking him, Hux was marched from the briefing room adjacent to Snoke’s chamber, the rough-hewn cloth of his new pants rubbing together with every step. It’s a memorable journey, being lead through control room after control room, paraded before his former staff…_

_His pants scratch and rasp throughout, a soulless beat backing the melody that had once been at his control, for even at its most quiet, the Finalizer never failed to sing._

_Faces passed by, blurred features distorted by the ache of unshed tears. Everything was different. The song was still there, in the rhythm of soldiers as they reacted to orders and the whip-quick data transactions on the bridge. It was the same, except for a single, vital fact._

_Suddenly, the song wasn’t his, and that made all the difference._

* * *

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”

“What, you don’t like it when I call you General?” There’s an edge of cruelty to Ren’s words, even as he continues his gentle mapping of Hux’s face. “I call you what you are. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Ren’s arms are unyielding when Hux tries to force him away, and even though he knows better, Hux can’t stop himself from struggling from Ren’s grasp.

“It’s not what I am. I am _nothing_ , and you know it. I’m not a General any more than this thing between us is real. It’s a joke and I am nothing of what I was.” There are tears in his eyes and a fire beneath his skin, but Ren still won’t let him go, his dark eyes gazing impassively into Hux’s very soul. Like everything else about Ren, it rankles at Hux that he can’t read him. “Let me _go_ , Ren.”

Despite the harsh, winded quality of Hux’s demand, Ren lets go with a smile. Hux waits for the inevitable punishment, eyes averted out of shame and anger and duty, but all Ren does is shift onto his side. He’s all pale skin and broad shoulders - broader and more sturdy than he had ever seemed in his cape and helmet.

He’s a beautiful creature in these bedroom moments, the dimmed lighting working to soften his edges into something a million times more dangerous than Hux could have ever anticipated. It makes Hux want to kill him even as he longs to touch his lips to every inch of Ren’s skin.

Not for the first time, Hux finds himself cursing them both for this farce that they’ve fallen into.

A pair of lovers with their hands wrapped around each other’s necks.

* * *

_Two weeks._

_It took two weeks before they managed to corner him in one of the more secluded hallways, fists clenched and eyes dripping with violence. They pressed him to the wall with their taunts, verbal threats that they would no doubt carry through, and for the first time since his days in the Academy, Hux was crippled by panic._

_Oh, he had been nervous before, and he had known the heavy weight of anxiety, but he had always made sure to have an exit mapped out before entering into anything. Whether it was a battle or a debriefing, Hux had always been three steps ahead… but then Snoke had stripped him of his power and robbed him of his resources… and Hux had come to remember the acrid taste of fear._

_One of them, leader of the sanitation crew, had leaned deep into Hux’s space, close enough where they had shared the same breaths between them. It had been intimate and mortifying all at once, but then the man - Connor was his name - had softened his fist into a caress, all the better to trace up and down the lines of Hux’s body, fingers pushing under the rough fabric of his shirts and past the unwilling grimace of his lips._

_It was a horror._

_A violation._

_Connor’s friends had laughed, their cruel taunts ringing in his ears, reminding him that it was all his fault… that_ this _was what his failure had reduced him to. A phantom of his former self. A body, good for nothing else but their pleasure and cruelty._

_Hux cringed away from Connor’s touch as fear twisted his stomach and deflated his lungs, and he braced himself for the inevitable pain and humiliation that those hands would bring. He braced himself and he waited, eyes screwed shut and heart rabbiting in his chest, loud enough that he was sure everyone could hear._

_Yet another aspect of his weakness to prey upon._

_Those roughened fingers pushed into his hair, tangled and tugging until he had been forced to bare his throat. Hux would have laughed at the sight had it been anyone else, but the submission had been his own. The_ shame _had been his own._

_Footsteps sounded down the hall, pulling Connor and his lot from the moment, scurrying off before they could be caught in the fallen General’s company._

_Whispered threats and demands for silence were thrown at him as they fled, proving that their stupidity was equal in measure to their menace._

_As if Hux would debase himself by admitting his vulnerability… as if Hux had anyone to go to at all._

* * *

The silence between them is thick, potent enough where Hux is halfway asleep before Ren deigns to speak again.

“You’re no different than you were before, you know, except that now you’re mine.”

“Yes. You’ve made it clear who I belong to. There’s not a soul on board that would dare question whose property I am.”

In the blink of an eye, Ren’s smile is back, predatory and lovely all at once.

“Don’t forget that it’s my influence that keeps you safe. Would you prefer it the other way? Would you return to your struggles? Just how long do you think you would last without me, General?”

“I…” The truth of it catches in Hux’s throat, but he owes it to Ren to answer. “I wouldn’t last at all.”

It’s not a confession so much as fact, which is why it’s disarming when Ren offers a confession of his own.

“Neither would I, General.”

* * *

_After his first run in with Connor, Hux had retreated to his quarters, skin still crawling from the phantom caress of those hands._

_A fifth the size of his former suite, the small room held none of the commodities of his former life, but the lock on the door and the attached refresher made it safe and secure as he waited for his fate._

_It quickly became his haven._

_Behind that locked door, which was the only luxury he was allowed, Hux could hold out from Connor and his crew. He could close his eyes against his reality and breathe easy._

_It was the only place he could let down his guard, which made it all the more painful when, hours after the confrontation, the orders had come down that he was to be moved into the general barracks._

_Apparently, Snoke was done coddling him._

_Mitaka’s forced kindness had rubbed Hux the wrong way, with his every word ripe with regret and dripping with insincerity. He was far too soft for the promotion they’d given him in Hux’s wake, but he would either learn to adapt or he would be snuffed out quickly enough._

_Phasma, on the other hand, had the decency to stand silent and strong, just as she would with any other criminal onboard. Utterly unreadable, she had lead Hux from his quarters - no possessions to speak of beyond the clothes on his back - and he took as much strength from her as he could._

_From the moment he stepped into the barracks, heads had turned and eyes had narrowed. From the hate on their faces it had been clear that Hux would need all the strength that he could siphon if he were to survive at all._

_Across the chamber, Connor stood out from the rest. Large and imposing, hulking even in repose, with eyes as hungry as they were loathsome. He threw a wink towards Hux, smirking all the while, and Hux’s fingers itched for a blade or a blaster - he itched to kill._

_Instead, they came to wrap around the thin blanket that Phasma thrust towards him, barely enough to keep out the chill._

_Sole possession in hand, Hux set to making up his bunk, aware of the eyes that lingered from around the room and waiting for the predators to come for his throat._

* * *

“The Supreme Leader would strike you down to hear such things, Ren.” It takes commitment to keep the panic out of his voice, but it’s out of habit rather than need. With this little between them there’s no room for secrets, no point in hiding anything from Ren… but Ren is nothing like Snoke. “You would serve yourself well to banish such thoughts before he kills me himself. Kills us both.”

“He can’t hear me here,” Ren laughs. The very notion sends a shiver down Hux’s spine. It’s taboo. “What if he could? I’m growing more powerful each day, so who’s to say I couldn’t choose to keep you forever?”

Forever.

It’s an ugly word full of promise, but Hux turns it over in his head all the same. Allows it to roll around, unspoken on his tongue, until he’s memorized the feel of it. The force behind it.

“Who’s to say you’d want me that long?”

“Ask the question if you have it, General. It’s beneath you to play coy.”

Ren’s words sting almost as much as Hux’s indignation does at being called out for playing Ren’s damned game. Anger flows through him like ice through his veins, so cold that it burns, most of it directed at himself. After all this time, Hux should know better than to rise to Ren’s bait.

And yet.

Here he is, heart thundering in rage and fists clenched to strike.

“You mock me with titles and you degrade me with your games. If I am your vice - your _tabac_ \- your filthy habit, perhaps it’s time you choose to stop. If you’re so strong, perhaps it’s time for you to take what you clearly consider your own. Why worship Snoke if he’s so insignificant? Why waste my time with your foolish games and your half-truths when you could have whatever you want?”

He’s shouting by the end of it, hoarse and spitting each word like the sharpest of blades. He hurls his words like weapons and he waits for the end of Ren’s patience to rain down upon him…

And yet, Ren just smiles before crowding closer; he’s close enough to kiss, near enough to kill, but Hux does neither. All he does is hold Ren’s gaze, unable to tear his eyes away as hate and lust and something sickeningly enough like devotion passes between them. It’s more than he had agreed to.

“ _There_ you are, General,” Ren breathes against his lips, hot and soft and damning. Hux briefly considers biting the words from Ren’s mouth, but then Ren’s arms are caging him in and Ren’s legs are straddling his hips, and everything narrows down to the heat in Ren’s eyes. “You’re not some wilted flower, plucked and displayed in a vase. You’re stronger than that. _Better_ than that. I’ve seen into your soul and I know you better than you know yourself.”

“You play with me for sport.”

“No, Hux,” Ren purs, “I make you better. Soon Snoke will be gone and a new ruler will sit upon the throne.”

* * *

_Bloody and bruised, Hux ran as far as his legs would take him. Not far enough. Never far enough, and still he ran. Low on sleep and unable to stomach the slop that had been reserved seemingly just for him in the mess, he was a wreck… but he had two legs and a will to survive that trumped any abuse thrown his way._

_At least, that was the idea. That was the hope… that his two legs and his brain and his cunning could keep him alive._

_The problem with hope, however, is that it couldn’t protect him. After all of his service and all of his connections, it seemed that nothing could protect him._

_A hotbed for abuse, the barracks were a fresh kind of hell and yet another reminder of his weakness, even as he would shrug off the whistles and leers and threats as if he were used to them. Eyes straight ahead and shoulders back, he employed every trick he knew… but the feigned apathy of his outward appearance was worlds away from the storm that was brewing in his heart._

_More difficult to ignore than the verbal threats were the physical. Brutes and oafs and the occasional snake, it seemed that there was no end to the number of people champing at the bit to take him down a peg. The gravitas that had surrounded him in his lofty position of General had protected him before, and without that shield of status and power Hux was alone._

_There had been five of them this time, throwing punches and doling out punishment like so many gifts. Connor’s indecency still fresh in his mind, Hux had taken the blows gladly, a happy alternative to the abuse he had hung above his head from the first run-in with Connor. A bruise could be healed… but the dark promises that had been laid out, whispered and cackled and written in ink… those wouldn’t heal so easily._

_After all, it was one thing to be the First Order’s punching bag and quite another thing to be its whore._

_Half blinded by the blood flowing thickly from his brow, Hux had wandered the more secluded of halls, stumbling along, high on adrenalin and completely reliant on instinct. Tripping over his own feet, a broken figment of the man he had been before._

_A wreck._

That _is how Ren had found him._

_In the moment, Hux had struggled to find a barb to throw at him, some stinging thread of words that could redeem him… but nothing came to mind. Heart stuttering in his chest, Hux waited for Ren to say something - to_ do _something - but Ren stayed silent, judgment thick even from behind his mask._

_Under Ren’s scrutiny, Hux struggled to find a single thing about himself that would make him worthy of bothering over. He tried to see himself from Ren’s eyes, and the only thing left that he could think of was shame. Deep, gaping shame, because the only thing of value that he could offer to Ren was his own wounded pride._

_Ren’s hands, dry and soft and cool against Hux’s battered skin, came to frame his face as Ren made an offer. A contradiction to everything Hux had ever thought about the other man and what it was that he valued._

_Ren’s protection for Hux’s body. Physical pleasure in exchange for relief._

_It was unthinkable. Shameful._

_Somehow, though, it didn’t seem any worse than the life he was already living._

_With his entire being throbbing in pain, weary and worn in the face of his purgatory, Hux did the only thing he_ could _do in the moment._

_With a nod of his head, resolute and desperate, he chose to survive._

* * *

What Ren is suggesting… it’s ludicrous and terrible, and it’s probably the most dangerous thing that Hux has heard in his life. Snoke’s own precious Knight of Ren plotting to usurp his place on the throne.

It’s a funny image that his mind conjures up, Ren sitting pale and pouting upon the throne, long hair knotted and clumped with blood. The boy king, supreme in all ways, with Hux as his concubine, chained beside him.

It’s laughable, if only for the sheer panic that would rush over Hux if he didn’t laugh instead.

_Forever_.

Ren wants to keep him forever.

It’s enough to make Hux wish that Snoke had been quick with his execution, rather than allow his existence to carry on at Ren’s whims.

“You… you’re going to kill him.”

It’s not a question, but Ren still answers, as serious as he’s ever been.

“Yes.”

Yes.

_Yes_ , he’s going to kill the Supreme Leader.

The laughter once again bubbles up Hux’s throat unbidden, but this time, he can’t stop. It’s just too much. It’s madness. There are tears in his eyes, and a pain in his gut, but Hux still can’t stop laughing.

“You would kill Snoke and take his place. Oh, stars. We’re going to be slaughtered without mercy. You’ve lost your mind.”

He’s laughing and laughing until suddenly he’s not, arms pinned above his head and a hand wrapped around his throat - another clamped over his mouth. There are hands everywhere, dizzying and bruising in their application; curse the force, Hux can’t tell which are real and which are conjured by Ren’s will. In the end, it doesn’t matter. One could kill him as easily as the other.

What a way to die. Naked in bed with one of the Knights of Ren.

“Stop thinking so loud, General. I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to crown you. _Serve_ you. Adorn you in gold and watch as you burn the world around you.”

Ren’s body presses down on the last word, all ripcord musculature and beautiful skin, and it’s the dual sensation of their cocks rubbing together, hard and hot and alive, paired with Ren’s words echoing in his head that kick starts Hux’s heart at double-time. He feels electric and powerful in the moment, and if that was Ren’s intention… well, the man is persuasive in a way that Hux had never anticipated.

Rolling his hips in time with Ren’s, Hux takes a moment to bite down hard at the juncture of Ren’s neck and shoulder, teeth digging in hard to leave a mark of his own.

“Aah- and what of you, Ren? As I rule from your throne?”

“I’ll be yours as you are mine. Two sides of the same coin,” he pants against Hux’s cheek. It’s not enough.

“Would you burn?”

Long fingers trail down Hux’s chest, catching against his nipples and scratching lower still until Ren’s got them gripped together. It’s pressure and heat, tight and dry and just shy of painful, but it’s enough to quickly coax another orgasm from Hux’s body.

Ren doesn’t let Hux go until he’s worked himself to his own release - he doesn’t allow Hux to pull away, doesn’t allow him to beg off when the pleasure morphs into overstimulation and pain. All Hux can do is lay back and bear it as Ren takes his fill, lost to his pleasure, his face morphed into something so stunning that Hux _knows_ the pain is worth it.

It’s worth it to see Ren like this. Desperate and pure, even as he ruins their bodies in pursuit of his sin.

It’s moments like this that help Hux to forget just why he’s in Ren’s bed. These scattered moments where Ren allows himself to let go…

Ren comes with a sigh, streaking over his hand and painting along the smooth skin of Hux’s chest. Again, those phantom hands come into play, roaming over Hux’s skin and rubbing their release into his skin. There isn’t an inch of skin that doesn’t feel claimed as Ren watches from where he’s straddled above.

“Oh, General. Don’t you know… I burned up long ago.”

More than the sex. More than the promise of power. More than anything else that Ren has offered… _this_ is Ren’s truth. His strength and his weakness together in one simple fact.

From where he’s pinned beneath Ren, Hux allows himself a single sigh before he sharpens his resolve. After all, Ren will need him at his best if they are to raze the galaxy to dust.

From the way that Ren’s face shifts from sated to predatory, it’s clear that he’s read the change in Hux, clear that he likes what he's seen.

Ren smiles, and it’s enough.

* * *

**They’ll fuck on the throne.**

**Fingers and teeth and muscles flexed, they’ll move as one.**

**They’ll ache and moan together, golden wreaths pinned securely to their hair, undisturbed and lovely through each thrust and gasp.**

**The Knight and his King.**

**Biting and melding and breaking against each other with every breath, their lips will part and curve around promises fulfilled, words growing more and more hushed until they come with the other’s name on their tongues.**

**This moment will be their culmination. The apex of their journey.**

**Blood on their hands and hate in their hearts, there will be no room for anyone else between them.**

**The Emperor and his Consort, venomous and poisonous all at once, the most deadly of creatures in all the galaxy.**

**Together they’ll burn the stars down and it will be enough.**


End file.
